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I’ve been dormant for over a year on my blog posts. Shocking but true. Many might wonder where I was. What was I doing that I couldn’t tap a few computer keys and write a few interesting lines.

Life has a way of tripping you up every once in a while and by tripping you up I mean knocking you down, dragging you along and beating you senseless. At least that has been what life does to me.

It starts out with small things, then in my experience it rolls that snowball into an avalanche that comes crashing down on top of you leaving you breathless and struggling to free yourself from it’s crushing weight.

I won’t go into all the details, but know that I have been trying to dig myself out from under this last avalanche with a plastic teaspoon all while it’s continuing to snow on me. It’s exhausting and to have to sit at a computer keyboard and try to be creative at the same time was just more than my brain cells could accomplish.

So what’s changed? Not much on the "life under an avalanche" side of things, but several friends and people in my life have reminded me of God’s promises and encouraged me to keep scooping away. A recent post by dear friends reminded me that if small children can overcome life threatening surgeries and live through pain and struggles I can’t even fathom, (JL) then I can pull up my big girl panties and get myself back on the planet. Bless the little children, for reminding me I need to be pro-active in my life and get my passions back in order.

"Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.”

I am passionate about protecting those who can’t protect themselves; children, animals, victims, elderly. It makes no sense to me that in today’s world we aren’t all passionate about these same things.

For instance, why do we allow domestic violence victims to continue to be overlooked in our courts and for judges to hand over their innocent children to the same man who abused them all?

Why do we continue to allow large "animal rescue leagues"

to make millions of dollars on the lies they tell while hiding victimized animals in the back rooms? Why do we continue to allow the elderly to suffer abuse and poor health care and basic living needs?

Why must victims continue to suffer in our failed court systems while criminals get more rights? Why must our veterans continue to be lost victims of a failed health care system? Why? Why? Why?

For most of these it’s the "almighty dollar". Those who have the money and the means often don’t use it to help those who do not. Those who have the money continue to victimize those who can’t afford to fight against these injustices. Our court systems are corrupt,broken and costly, our health care system is a joke, our animal welfare often suffers at hands of those who abuse it, victims are ignored and unheard.

Too often if it doesn’t directly affect us, we chose to pretend we don’t know it exists. I call it the "ostrich syndrome" – hiding our head in the sand. The trouble is the problem is still there and the sand is hard to get out of your ears.

What can we do? We can speak out and speak up! We can pick something that speaks to us, to our passions and fight to right the wrongs. I’m working with my youngest daughter to change Iowa’s child custody laws to keep domestic violence victims and their often abused children safe from the abusers. #SafeChildAct

Whatever your passion, I hope you will write to your legislators, governors, whoever and do whatever you need to do to help those who cannot speak up for themselves. It’s time that we baby boomers showed the world the stuff we are made of! We did great things in our youth, lets go out with a bang! Peace!

Until next time…Toni

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(This was from last September! I feel like I fell off the blog wagon, and I apologize to those few faithful readers who enjoy my tales. I debated if I should publish this one, and thought why not? I hope you find a bit of humor in it and may it brighten your day. By the way – this year so far, I am well. -Toni)

Not feeling well is something everyone can relate to. I would even hazard a guess that it is most people’s least favorite thing. I loathe being ill. Whether it’s a cold, a flu, a headache, whatever the ailment, I’m against it one hundred percent.

Some people rarely get ill. I’m not a fan of them either. Sorry, just being honest here. My husband of forty-two years is one of those people. I think in his lifetime he has only missed work or school due to illness once. Once! Who is this guy?

When our children were small I recall one Christmas we were all ill with a nasty flu bug and it was the only time in my life I’ve seen my husband sick other than a bad cold. Each of us sat around on Christmas morning with our

and could have cared less about opening presents, even the ones from Santa.

* A “puke buddy pail” is an empty plastic ice cream bucket, usually from Schwan’s in our house. I sometimes drew a smiley face on it, I have a weird sense of humor.

I, on the other hand, have always been the one who catches every single germ floating anywhere near me. I also don’t seem to outgrow childhood illnesses. Well into my forties, fifties and beyond I have turned a cold or sinus infection into tonsillitis. Yup, that’s the kind of fun I have. I become almost hermit-like over the winter cold season to avoid germs.

I take my daily vitamins, get my flu shot every year like a champ and had a pneumonia shot that’s still effective, or so they tell me. Recently I became very ill with lower abdominal pain and a bad stomach ache. I was worried I may have some food poisoning from the pepperoni I had used on a pizza. I felt off the entire next day and the following day I could tell as the day wore on it was only getting worse.

I hadn’t been able to eat either day but was trying to keep water down. As the hours ticked slowly by my body was telling me things were not right. Let’s just say there were fluids escaping my body that shouldn’t be and in a manner that was not normal. Later that second day I gave in and realized I may need to see a doctor. This was at ten o’clock at night, I didn’t say anything about making quick decisive decisions, in case you were wondering.

I decided to go to my local small county hospital rather than one of the several larger ones in the nearby cities. Good choice. Not only did I get excellent care, I’m pretty sure I was the only one in the ER the entire couple of hours I was there. They were very attentive, happy to have someone to use their skills on. I felt miserable, so I was happy to give them all the blood they needed and didn’t balk at the IV port in one arm or the blood taken out of the other hand when they couldn’t get a good vein. Normally these things concern me. I am a chicken through and through and am happy to admit it.

They sent me home after pronouncing it was not my gall bladder, thanks to a scan, but was colitis, which the very handsome nurse practitioner said was like having a really bad flu. After finishing up giving me fluids and several pills and prescriptions for more, I got to go home. Two antibiotics they said should do the trick, take them all.

At home I spent the next six days taking my pills as prescribed, drinking lots of water, drinking broth first then working my way up to the B.R.A.T. diet (bananas, white rice, applesauce, white toast) all the things they normally tell you not to eat are apparently the only things you can eat when ill. Caffeine is a no go, so decaf coffee is now making it’s way onto my slowly increasing diet. It’s still mostly bland foods and I’m craving tacos for some reason.

For you females, you will understand and sympathize with me here. Antibiotics are wonderful drugs that help our bodies heal, however, if you are a female they do not play nice with the good bacteria in your female system and you have a good chance of getting a yeast infection. I was well prepared for this and had been eating yogurt and drinking tons of water, however, I did not manage to avoid that inevitable outcome because I don’t have that kind of luck.

The second thing that happened to me while recovering was that the nasty cold my husband recently got, now landed on me. It started with two days of constant sneezing which I was very thankful had not occurred earlier in the week when my lower GI was doing flip flops. Yesterday the sneezing was replaced with a stuffy nose and today I have a full-blown sinus cold with sneezing, stuffy sinuses, watery eyes. Hurray for me! Too bad antibiotics still can’t kill the common cold!

At this moment in time I can say with some amount of confidence that only my pinky fingers don’t hurt but give it time. Tomorrow I plan on doing nothing. I’d like to tell you that I’m going to spend the day reading or catching up on some TV shows I’ve missed, but that hurts my watery eyes so that’s all a no. I’d like to think I’ll rest but my sinuses are painful and draining, so that doesn’t sound promising either. I’d also like to tell you that a day of doing nothing is hard for me, being such a workaholic and all, it’s not and I’m not.

There is a ray of sunshine in all this. Tomorrow we are getting homemade pies. A friend goes and gets pies every once in a while, and I happen to know Jay ordered two, peach for him, apple for me. I’m going to expand my bland diet tomorrow to include a larger piece of apple pie. See, there was a happy ending after all.

Until next time…Toni

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Ok, I’m veering off the tracks a bit today. I had a blog all ready to post, about my high school teachers and what a great influence they had on me, I’ll post that later. This topic is near and dear to my heart, I hope you’ll have a listen.

I realized tomorrow is #projectiamnotashamed day. People with mental health diseases are to stand in their community between 10:00 am and 2:00 pm with a sign that tells the type of mental health illness you or a loved one has and to open communications about it.

The point is to stop the stigma people have with mental illness. It’s a “hidden” disease if you will, you can’t "see" it. You probably know people right now who are struggling with it, but you may not realize they are. It’s not like having a cast on a broken leg or arm that people can see and identify easily with. Most people who have some type of depression are also pretty good at hiding it, often until it’s too late. We only take notice when bad things happen to celebrities like Robin Williams and Kate Spade.

I wanted to be out there with my sign, just like I wanted to go to recent events and hang out, but my anxiety stops me. It’s something I struggle hard with every day. PTSD and anxiety attacks keep me at home and missing many things. Often the mental anguish of anxiety is overwhelming and it’s just easier to stay home. I realize if you’ve never had any mental disease you have no idea what it’s like. Be very thankful.

I’ve had clinical depression since my mid twenties. I’ve been on and off medications. Some worked, some did not. I’ve been thru multiple therapies, same thing. I believe strongly in taking care of your mental health and seeking counseling for it. Mental health care is a process, a trial and error often. Don’t give up, and don’t suffer through it alone. Having a good support system is often key.

After the death of my oldest daughter Torri from cervical cancer and all that followed, I developed PTSD and anxiety attacks. My faith has helped carry me along the way, but I’ll admit, there are many days I don’t want to face the world. I just want to stay home, isolated, alone, just trying to make it to the next day. I’m thankful for God watching over me, only His love is truly unconditional and I’ve put Him to the test many times.

The combination of all of these is often very debilitating. It is difficult just to go to town to do simple tasks like buying groceries. People will mistakenly think I’m either shy or stuck up, or anti-social, or rude because I don’t show up for social things or cancel plans. I know my excuses are lame, but that’s part of the stigma association.

The truth is, my depression has gotten the better of me that day. I’m stuck in my house wishing I could go, hating that I can’t, trying to cope. Would anyone guess that I had any of these, probably not.

When I must be out and about, I dig deep to pull out all the stops. The “mask” comes on and you’d think I was the most social person around. I’m outgoing, often witty, maybe even charming. I’m laughing, making others laugh and have a good time, that is my specialty. You’d enjoy being around me as I often use humor and charm to mask my depression. But inside, there is a whole other world going on, one that no one else is allowed to see.

Why can’t I just do that all the time you may ask, just dig deep, put on the "mask". Wouldn’t that make me "normal"? It’s exhausting. It takes a toll on you mentally and physically. Do I wish I could be "normal" all the time, you better believe it. I didn’t choose this any more than someone with a physical illness chooses that. It’s not a character flaw or weakness. It’s an illness. Would you ask someone with a broken arm to just "get over it"?

My anxieties won’t allow me to be standing outside with my sign, so I decided to put my discussion here on my blog, at home, behind my computer, safe. Yet, also very dangerous I know. Depression has a HUGE stigma attached, that’s what we are all trying to break. Mental Illness Awareness Week takes place from Oct. 7–13 this year. The theme is "Cure Stigma", very fitting.

People look at you differently when they know you have depression. They often give you that “look” – the one that says, “I’m so sorry, are you ok sweetie?” I hate that look. It’s why I usually don’t share my disease.

They also start treating you differently, like you are a small child who needs to be gently guided along, or like you are made out of glass and must be carefully attended to so you don’t break. It’s happened to me so many times. Stop it.

I’m just like you, only my brain has some chemical imbalances that cause it to veer off on occasion. I don’t want you to treat me any differently than anyone else. I can handle it, if I can’t I’ll tell you or I won’t come to whatever social event I’m invited to. If I go into a crisis mode, then there are signs, learn them, but don’t treat me differently.

This is my sign for tomorrow, for #projectiamnotashamed. I hope you’ll ask me about depression, I’ll share my story. It often runs in families and recent studies have shown depression, anxiety and OCD, may share some genetic risk factors.

My dad had it, though I don’t think it was ever diagnosed, I have children who have it. I’ve had depression for decades. Some of it is new, and some I’ve worn like a pair of old shoes. I don’t like it, but I can’t throw it out either. It’s part of who I am, part of my DNA.

Mental illness, depression is a disease. It is no different than having any other disease and people should not be looked down on because of it.

If you give me pity, sympathy or “the look”, you will not be doing me a service, you’ll be insulting me. I will probably distance myself from you.

I just want you to know, it’s something I struggle with every day, and I’m not being a jerk when I cancel things, I’m trying to deal with my disorder. Honor me with patience and understanding, not pity and sympathetic gestures.

Until next time…Toni

http://projectiamnotashamed.com

https://www.nami.org/Get-Involved/Awareness-Events/Mental-Illness-Awareness-Week

http://www.mentalhealthamerica.net/recognizing-warning-signs

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org 📞 800-273-TALK (8255)

I will be the first to admit I have never been keen on class reunions. I’m reasonably certain I have attended at least one of my class reunions, but other than that, I don’t think I usually go. You are probably wondering why, since I’m so “witty and charming” and I still live within three miles of my high school and the town it’s located.

Spoiler alert:

First, I was never the most popular girl or the most beautiful girl in my class. If you were one of those girls (you know who you are) you almost have an obligation to show up at all the class reunions, so everyone can see if you’ve changed, in other words, gained weight or gotten less beautiful. Trust me, both are the hope of every other girl that was in high school with you.

It has been my experience however, that neither of those things happen to any of these girls, at least not to the ones that were in my class, at either school.

Let me explain that last sentence which is also my next reason for not attending. I have always felt torn between two schools, and not really belonging to either one. I attended Cedar Falls schools from kindergarten to ninth grade, then my family moved to Dike just three years before I graduated.

So which school or schools am I an alumni of? Cedar Falls or Dike or both? I’m never sure. I attended the Cedar Falls schools the longest, however never attended the high school there. I graduated from Dike high school, however, only attended there from half of ninth grade through twelfth. Do you see my dilemma?

Cedar Falls class of ’73 had their 45th class reunion during Sturgis Falls Days. I probably could have gone over and said hello, but I didn’t because I never know if I fit in since I didn’t attend the high school there, and that after all is what class reunions focus on, high school stuff.

My Dike high school 45th class reunion is coming up during Dike’s Watermelon days. I’m really torn about going or not going. I haven’t aged that well. I’m not the thinner person I was in high school, I’ve gained a second me who is attached to my middle and hip areas. I’ve tried to shake her off, but she refuses to leave.

I’ve gotten arthritis in my knees and hands and don’t jump like I did when I was a cheerleader. I do still have a loud voice, although I can’t hear well now so I probably talk too loud most of the time. In other words, I have not aged particularly well.

A lot of my classmates, ok the majority, look just like they did back in high school with maybe a little greyer hair and a few tiny wrinkles here and there, but for the most part, they look great. Me, not so much. I’m that person people will look at and wonder “what on earth happened to her?” A lot has happened, but that’s another story.

There is also the fact that they all went to school from Kindergarten through graduation and I only joined them mid-ninth grade year. They have a long history, they know each other well. I only knew them for the three years I spent with them in high school. Many of them are relatives as well, so they have that bond. I was not related to any of them.

I was the stranger who moved in and then had the audacity to marry one of their own. I was the lucky one in that regard.

Another consideration for me is the whole parade thing. When I was in high school I marched in many school parades as one of the drummers. My class will have a float in the parade and with my arthritic body I worry that I’ll be the one who can’t get up onto the wagon without causing a scene or bodily injury to myself or others. So, do I just duck the parade and save myself the embarrassment?

Clothing, there is another dilemma for me. Is it just me or do all people go through this? What to wear that won’t make you look too fat, too old, too poor, too frumpy, too dated, too casual, etc, etc. The list is endless. I never seem to be able to choose the right outfit to wear. Some people just slap on anything and look wonderful, I am not one of those people.

My hair style or rather lack of one, is another thing I stress over. Shoes, what about shoes! I’m stressing out right now just thinking about all of this. There was a day when I wore all the cutest shoes and clothing, had long dark hair, didn’t stress about any of it, but, I was a size 5 back then. I haven’t seen that size in thirty-five years at least.

There is also the obligatory get together, there’s always a meal. Confession time, I hate to eat around others. One, because of that whole mental judging thing I envision because of my size now. Two, because I’ve also always been a klutz, so I always end up spilling on myself, it’s almost legendary. Three, I am quite possibly the slowest eater on the planet, ask anyone who has dined out with me on those rare occasions.

While I have an outgoing type of personality, and I’m not shy around strangers, I am also horribly socially awkward because of the above reasons. You won’t find me at any parties laughing it up with people while deftly juggling my paper plate of food in one hand and glass of pop in the other, au contraire. I prefer my little bit of acreage with my hammock and dog. I’m social on paper.

So here I am. The confused alumnus who is socially awkward, who has probably changed the most out of everyone in not one, but two school systems and has nothing to wear. My confusion is no fault of my classmates of either school, it’s a product of what happens when you get moved so late in the game. You lose that longevity and familiarity whether good or bad. You become the kid with no place/class to truly call your own.

To the class of 1973, know that in my heart I hold you all dear. Whether I went to school with you for ten years in Cedar Falls or for three years in Dike, I wish you all well. I’m not the thin kid with the dark hair and green eyes you may recall. I’m old, greying, my eyesight is worse, my waist went from thin to extra-large, I limp when I walk, and my hands hurt most of the time. I’m the kid that didn’t age well. The forty-five years since we walked out of high school with our diplomas in hand have not always been the kindest to me. I hope most of you have fared much better.

If I don’t join you, have fun, enjoy your memories. Maybe I’ll see you at our 50th.

Until next time…Toni

This morning there was a small thunderstorm in my area. No big deal, it happens all the time in Iowa. Lightning strikes were close, and we lost power for less than five minutes. Seemingly not a problem, however, that was just enough time to mess up my electronically controlled house.

I love technology, and always have. Most of the time it works great. I love that I can control the lights in my house with an app or by telling my Echo dot to turn something off or on. It fits my nature, I like to be in charge. I’m a Capricorn, it’s in the stars. Granted it is only electronic gadgets I oversee, but power is power after all.

The downside of technology is when your electricity goes out, even for five minutes. Philips Hue lights are built with an emergency setting so that if you lose power, when the power is restored all your Hue lights will turn on. Apparently, this is for my own good, so I can see in case of an emergency.

I wish they would allow you to set up a time limit on the power outage. For instance, if my power is out less than ten minutes, do NOT turn on all the lights when power is restored. This would save me a lot of bright blinding lights waking me up when our power briefly goes out due to a summer thunderstorm at 2:00 a.m. Perhaps I need to bring this to their attention.

The second thing that happened this morning is that the brief lightning strike, also fried my internet hub. I did all the normal things, unplug stuff for thirty seconds, plug it back in. Nothing. I called it in and sure enough, we were not on their “grid”. You never, ever want to hear you are “not on the grid” technology-wise.

I am now trying to figure out how to turn off all my Hue lights without internet service. I know what you are thinking, but that’s so un-technological.

So far, the information I could pull up on my phone, which thank goodness I can still connect to the outside world without the internet working in my home, says that I can. Nothing has worked so far.

The tech can’t come here until Monday between 12:30 and 4:30, so it will probably be around 5:00 p.m. when they arrive. I guess I am stuck doing it the old-fashioned way, the on/off switch on each light. It feels so antiquated.

When the lights went out I was also just beginning to watch Thor: Ragnarok on Netflix using my Roku. Yes, it was just after 7:00 am, but what else is there to do, I’d already loaded the dishwasher, so my conscious was clear. Another 21st C problem, no internet, no Roku. No Roku, no Netflix. No Netflix, no Thor. (big sighs)

So how did we get here to all these wonderful technological problems after all? Let’s go back a few years (cough cough) and reminisce about how some of this began. I have no internet after all so I’m not going anywhere else cyber-wise.

I’m part of the Baby Boom Generation. “Boomers” were born roughly between 1943-1960 (there are differing opinions on those years) when the world felt safe again after world wars and people had jobs and started having babies, apparently a lot of us. We are now over fifty (in my case over sixty) and we have seen a lot of changes over the decades.

Warning: Younger adults may have to Google many of the following references.

Two big things happened in 1955, the year I was born. Disneyland and McDonalds. I’ve never been to Disneyland, but sadly, I have been to McDonalds too many times! I have learned from my mistakes.

I know what you’re thinking and yes, there were many other things happening that year also like the Salk’s Polio vaccine was approved, and birth control pills. The Micky Mouse Club debuted, and Elvis Presley was a big hit along with Rock & Roll. Rosa Parks made her famous stand and the Vietnam war began and would end the year we graduated high school in 1973.

Actor James Dean died that year, so did physicist and Nobel winner Albert Einstein, you may have heard of him. Some people born that year were Steve Jobs and Bill Gates, coincidence?

Speaking of computers, the computer would be going from the size of a room to us literally wearing one on our wrist today like the old Dick Tracy* comic of yesteryear. Isn’t modern technology awesome! (*Google alert for you young ones)

We started out with a newer thing called television and were thrilled to be able to watch shows in black and white. Then came color! Wow, did that open a whole new horizon. I remember on Sunday nights my family used to drive over to my aunt and uncles house for supper and then we’d all sit and watch Bonanza on their new color TV.

We still had black and white at home and Bonanza just wasn’t the same once you’d seen it in color. (Michael Landon was even dreamer in color!) Later, as an young adult I owned a portable TV which I could watch my favorite shows (on all four channels) while sitting outside. Imagine that, I felt so empowered! Now it’s on my cell phone, all 250 channels.

Gadgets have always been my favorite things, like that newfangled spellcheck and dictionary from long, long ago. Then came more little information gadgets and soon you were able to buy a computer for your home!

The early version of internet meant waiting forever while your computer dialed it up through your land line telephone and there were a lot of pings and buzzes involved. It opened a whole new horizon; the world was literally now at your fingertips.

I used to go on the internet just to look up photos of other parts of the world, places I’d never be able to travel to. Being able to instantly access information was so fascinating to me and still is. My grand-kids think nothing of being able to type in a few words and pull up information in the blink of an eye, but back in the beginning it seemed so futuristic.

With all this wonderful technology that we enjoy today there are also some problems that go with it, or as the kids like to refer to it as, 21st century problems. Unlike the old land line phones that only went out when either a telephone pole was down due to a storm, or you neglected to pay "Ma Bell" your phone bill, (remember long distance bills?) cell phones come with their own problems. Today, cell phones can go down for many reasons, solar flashes, no tower service, tower site down, battery died, the unpaid bill is still one of them unfortunately, and my personal favorite, dropped calls.

Ah, 21st Century problems, that brings me back to this mornings thunderstorm.

I love all the new devices that can turn your ordinary house into a “smart home”. My oldest son Jason got me hooked on the Hue lights as he has them throughout his home. I love the way you can control your lighting from your phone or your voice if you add another invention, that being some type of voice-controlled speaker, think Dot or Google or Siri. My son had an extra Hue light hub, so he sent one home with me and I quickly went out and purchased some smart light bulbs.

These bulbs are not cheap, just for “ordinary” white light it is around $15 a bulb. But, they can be dimmed and controlled, without touching your lamp, which most ordinary light bulbs cannot. My strong will for wanting to stay as stationary as possible makes these devices even more appealing to me. I was so awed by their performance I saved up and purchased a color bulb. I say saved up because those run about $50 a bulb.

The range of colors and things you can do with these bulbs is worth the money in my humble opinion. My goal is to eventually replace all my white light smart bulbs with the colored ones in my living room for that true color experience. You can make it look like a sunset or a desert savanna (I’m trusting them on this one) for example. Who doesn’t want that? I wonder if I can set up a “donation” account to help me buy more colored bulbs?

The small voice-controlled speakers of today are also part of my home and something I love. I have three of the Dot’s in my house and use them frequently. One is in my bedroom, one in the living room and one in the kitchen. The one in the kitchen gets the most use. While I’m cooking I can use it to set timers and add items to my shopping list, then pull up that list on my smartphone later when at the store.

No more forgotten or lost lists, no more trying to remember what it was I was out of. No more forgetting to write it down on my list only to forget to take my list along with me later. I love the immediacy of the whole system. My brain can relax too. My brain thanks me.

As I mentioned in the beginning, there is a downside to this technology. If you ever lose electricity for even a second or two, when it comes back on, FLASH, so does every single Hue bulb in your house including the bedroom ceiling lights.

After being blinded into wakefulness you reach over for your iPad or cell phone and manually turn off each room of lights, or you tell Alexa or Google to do it for you, at least that’s how it normally goes. Not this morning. As I mentioned it also killed my internet hub. No Internet, no controlled devices. Rats, my Capricornian power control foiled again.

I am glad I have been a part of this technical revolution and have seen all the advances since the mid-fifties. For the most part I love technology and the great things it can do for us. There are definitely some problems with it and some things that need to be tweaked and overhauled. I wonder what the next big thing to come out will be?

My smartwatch is telling me I need to get more steps in for the day and that I have ten unread emails. The weather map on the front is showing me rain has cleared out of my area for now with temperatures up into the eighties. Looks like another day inside with the air conditioning on for me, which is another of my all-time favorite inventions.

“Alexa add laundry soap to my shopping list”. Oh right, no internet. Now where did I put a pen?

Until next time…Toni

From 1955: (Just for fun)

Average Cost of new house – $10.950.00 Average Monthly Rent – $87.00 Average Yearly Wages – $4.130.00 Minimum Hourly Rate – $1.00 Average Cost of a new car – $1,900.00 Cost of a gallon of Gas – .23 cents Black and White TV – $99.95

Update:

I managed to make it through the next few days and over the weekend before our technical support could come fix our internet on “Monday between noon and four.” I had to manually turn on and off my lights and my fan until then. How 20th century!

I placed a call in to our internet provider Monday morning to make sure I was still on the list for a repair visit that afternoon, and was assured I was. I sat waiting all Monday afternoon for the tech person to arrive and when five-thirty rolled around and still no word, I called in to the company to find out what happened.

The overly cheerful young man in customer support was also perplexed as he noted I was indeed on the repair list for the day but then had been removed. This is another thing you don’t want to hear. He needed to put me on hold while he checked with his supervisor.

I never got a good answer other than the job prior to mine had taken longer and I would need to call back in the morning and reschedule another appointment. I politely told him I did not think this was a proper way to handle your customers and suggested that they may want to consider letting the customer know if another job is taking longer and then reschedule the customer that got bumped for the next morning.

I told him I didn’t feel like them not calling or showing up was my responsibility or that I should be required to call in to make another appointment. I felt that putting me back on the two-day waiting list was not a good way to handle things. He thanked me for my advice and we hung up.

About a half an hour later my phone rang, and it was an automated voice from my internet provider telling me that our repair tech would be arriving within the next hour. This was a shock to me. That would also put them at our house between six-thirty and seven, not the ideal time of day to have a repair tech in your house.

While we were finishing up supper I noticed a white van pull into our driveway and I went and put Kutter into the bedroom because most repair people don’t like having a pit bull staring at them while they work on your stuff. Kutter is a gentle soul and would only lick people, but his bark and stare can be intimidating.

I was waiting to answer the front door when my phone rang again. It was the tech guy out in his truck, in our driveway. He was asking me if he was at our house by describing my house to me and the vehicles parked in front of it. I wanted to walk outside and lead him by the hand up to my front door, but I resisted and told him yes, he was at my house.

I could tell immediately that he was in a very foul mood. I’m guessing some supervisor told him he had to get to our house tonight! I had never said that to the customer service guy earlier and had left it that I would reschedule my appointment for another day.

He was a young man, early twenties, scowl on his face, no polite chit chat at all. He went up on the roof to make sure the dish was still pointing toward the tower in Dike, then came in the house and got on our computer. Then he was out in his truck and back and forth a few times.

Each time he came in or out he left our front door open, so I’d have to get up and go around and shut it, as the air conditioning was on. Him not being able to shut doors would come into play later. Karma is real too, just like Capricorns.

After about a half an hour he managed to get it repaired and told us we had internet again. I thanked him as he walked out the door, again no word from him at all. I was going to tell him that I appreciated his coming so late but as I said he was in a crabby mood and just walked out the door.

A few minutes later I was surprised when he was back at our front door knocking on it again. Apparently, he is also unfamiliar with doorbells. He asked me if we had any fly spray because his truck had flies in it and a hornet. I didn’t correct him that more than likely it was a mud wasp.

He said he had left his truck door open the entire time he was here, see what I mean about leaving doors open? I did politely tell him that it was never a good idea to leave a door or window open when out on a farm location. It’s summer, there are flies.

I looked around the house and all I could find was a small can of mosquito spray which I said he could try and just keep the can. He didn’t return so I can only wonder at the outcome.

To thank us he left his pile of cigarette butts in my back yard, so my dog could eat them later. Luckily, I saw them first and cleaned up after the guy. How many could one guy smoke? Perhaps I should have told him about the downfalls of smoking too?

It was a delightful experience all around. If you are wondering if I’m going to call my internet provider this morning and let them know what a wonderful experience we had, oh most definitely yes I am.

I was happy later when I could tell Alexa to add sweet and sour sauce to my shopping list and I watched my living room lights slowly dim on their time schedule and then turn off.

The 21st C had been restored to my home and I could once again rest well knowing that technology was up and working for me once again. The joy of power was again surging through my veins.

Epilogue:

Since writing this blog, there was an EF3 tornado that hit Marshalltown, Iowa, among other towns. At first, other than my deep concern for the people who lived there and the businesses that were destroyed and my fear of Zeno’s pizza being gone, I did not feel it had affected me much personally. This proved to be a false statement as I quickly learned that my internet provider was heavily damaged in this same tornado and we would be a week without internet service.

Being without the internet is a very, very small thing compared to people who lost homes, jobs, businesses, and other belongings. My heart goes out to them all.

There are certain foods in our lives that become our favorites. We get many of those recipes while growing up. A lot of our favorite foods probably came from our mother or even our grandmothers. If you were lucky enough to also have a dad who liked to cook, then you probably have some food favorites from him as well, I know I do. Here’s to you dads. Happy Father’s Day.

My dad enjoyed cooking and did so quite often. Both he and my mom had full time jobs when I was growing up in the mid-sixties. Dad would make chili, macaroni and tomato juice, goulash, which is basically macaroni and tomato juice only with cooked hamburger in it and S.O.S. which in our case was creamed tuna on toast not the chipped beef variety. He also made one of my favorites, pancake eggs!

If you don’t know what pancake eggs are then I’m here to inform you. A pancake egg is basically two eggs scrambled up in a small pan and left to cook (flip once) so it resembles a pancake, then it is placed between two pieces of toast that have each been smeared with creamy peanut butter and WALLA! Pancake eggs!

I know what you are thinking, eggs and peanut butter?? Yes! The flavor is a rich buttery flavor with egg and warm melted peanut butter, plus look at all that protein your body is getting! What better way to start off your morning. Just add a cup of coffee and you are good to go. It’s also very portable which is important in today’s world.

I know I’ve made these many times over the years and tried to get my children to try them and/or like them. To be honest, I’m not sure any of them do, so now I will start on the grandchildren. Someone must carry on this fine tradition.

Macaroni and tomato juice is another favorite of mine and was one of my dad’s favorites. It’s basically cooking up a pan of elbow macaroni noodles (about a cup of noodles in a pan of boiling salted water) drain and rinse noodles and return to pan. Add a quart of fresh tomato juice or canned tomato juice, about a tablespoon of butter, salt and pepper to taste and heat until the juice is hot but don’t boil it. That’s it. Simple and delicious. If you are like my husband, you will eat this on top of mashed potatoes. I know, I know, I agree that it’s odd. To be fair, he thinks the same thing of my pancake eggs.

My mom made great spaghetti sauce and was the baker in the family. I remember my dad and I used to get in trouble for slicing into the still hot loaves of fresh baked bread and eating a slice with melting butter on top. Does anything smell better than bread baking in the oven? Ok maybe fresh cake or brownies, but bread really does warm the entire house with that wonderful smell. My oldest son Jason carries on this tradition with baking artesian breads. My mom would have been proud.

My husband Jay has also learned to cook over the years. He says its out of necessity, and he has become quite good at it. His chili is one of his best culinary feats as well as his roast beef and his broasted chicken. Yes, we actually have an authentic broaster. No, we’ve never owned a restaurant. Broasted chicken is one of my favorites, I wish he’d make it more often. It also means I don’t have to cook, so that’s a bonus!

If you would ask my children what recipes make them think of their dad I’m sure they would all say spaghetti. Jay is always making spaghetti sauce and we eat it at least once a week. This is coming from a man who never touched a stove until several years into our marriage when he found out he was not married to a B. Crocker type woman. I have my moments, but I have to be in the right mood to really crank out some great meal. When any of the kids or grandkids come to visit, I am in that mood. On a regular nightly routine, not so much. I have burnt my share of meals over the years I will freely admit. It’s even more annoying to burn your meal when you’re just cooking something for yourself. This perhaps explains my love of my microwave.

One of the better things I do make well is my homemade pizza and I think my kids would say that is their favorite food that I make. I wish they would all say my pancake eggs were their favorite, it’s much easier to make! Less labor intensive. I’m all about shortcuts. And microwaves! Microwaves are one of my favorite inventions. Not so much for my family.

Shared recipes from our parents that we can pass along to our children and their children and so on are part of the legacy that we can all give to generations to come. Even if your best recipe is orange jello with sherbet and shredded carrots, its something. Hopefully it will bring smiles when it is made and shared in years to come, or at the very least it will spark conversations on how could anyone eat that. Kind of like my beloved pancake eggs.

So to all of you dad’s out there, if manning the grill is all you have tried, I would tell you to give the kitchen stove or oven a try. You will be amazed at how much bonding there is in a kitchen with your children and shared over a meal at the table, especially one you cooked.

I hope you will give pancake eggs a try. If you do, email me and let me know what you think, good or bad. Thanks dad for sharing these with me. Thanks to all you dad’s out there who take part in your children’s lives and in their exploration of foods. My hats off to all of you!

Until next time…Toni

Pancake Eggs:

1 2

3 4

5 6

7 8

Ah Mother’s Day. It sounds like such a grand holiday. For most mom’s I think it is. It’s a day of homemade gifts presented from little hands, of flowers and special brunches from grateful spouses or significant others, of lots of hugs and kisses. The kind of day that warms the heart.

I’ve had a love/hate relationship with Mother’s Day most of my life. When I was a child in those years they now call tweens, the pressure was on to save up every cent you could get by turning in pop bottles, or from allowances and then bicycle your way to the local gift shop.

In my case it was just a few blocks up to “the Hill” or College Hill as it’s still known. There was a little pet and gift shop there that I would take all my found change in search of the perfect dollar gift. I’d buy my mom some little porcelain figurine that I thought she would like. A little teapot, or a small dish, a tiny heart shaped something. Then I would fold a piece of paper and draw her a nice card to go with it.

Mom of course, as all mothers do, would “ooo” and “aww” over my little gift and I would be off the hook for another year. I don’t recall however, seeing any of these little trinkets later in life. Apparently, my mom did not have hoarder tendencies like I do, which I define as sentimentality.

When I was an adult, the pressure became even greater to buy your mother something worthy of her having to have put up with you for your entire childhood and especially your teen years. I don’t remember anything I got my mother, but I’m sure it was awesome. At least that’s what I tell myself.

When I began having children my role then changed into being the mom who "ooed" and "awed" over the dandelion bouquets and hand drawn pictures from my four children. I never got the flowers and brunch from my husband, aka Mr. Romance, but that’s for another blog. His line was always, “well, you’re not my mother”.

I lost my mother to breast cancer when I was just 42, my dad had died just three years earlier. Mother’s Day now had a different meaning to me, it was a day of joy with my four children, but now also a day of loss over my own mother. My love/hate relationship with Mother’s Day now took on a whole new meaning. I no longer had a mom that I could stress over buying a gift for, and that made it worse somehow.

As my children grew and each left our home to start their own life adventures, I would look forward to Mother’s Day because it usually meant all four of them and their families would gather at our house for the weekend. It was a time of love and laughter, and I didn’t care if there were gifts or no gifts, just having them there together was all the joy I needed. For me, Mother’s Day has always been any day all of my children are home together with us.

Then another Mother’s Day happened. It would be the last Mother’s Day my oldest daughter Torri would have. I was living with them in Wisconsin and I mistakenly thought that a nice way I could help them enjoy the day would be to let them have the afternoon and supper alone together, just the three of them, since I was always there underfoot.

When I came back to their house after supper I noticed Torri looked very sad and had tears in her eyes, which tore my heart in two. She asked me why I hadn’t been there, and I explained that it was my gift to them as a family to give them some alone time. She looked at me and said, “but you are my mother, I wanted to celebrate with you.”

I think I hugged her harder than I ever had. I’ve never forgotten that day or those words. Instead of doing what I thought was a good thing, I had overlooked the fact that she had just wanted to spend the day with her mom. My gift to her had been right in front of my nose, literally. Torri died just about a week later on May 22, 2015.

Mother’s Day has never been the same for me since.

It’s hard to celebrate Mother’s Day when you’ve lost your mother, but I can tell you it’s nearly impossible to do so if you’ve lost a child. It’s even harder because you need to be there for your other children if you are so blessed, and/or grandchildren, but the hole in your very soul makes it nearly impossible to get past the day.

You laugh and smile and you are eternally grateful for all the phone calls and visits from your children and grandchildren, but there is always that one ever present loss in your life that never ceases. In the back of my mind, there is always that last Mother’s Day with Torri looping through my brain. I wish more than anything I could re-do that day. I will forever dread Mother’s Day for that reason.

I love Mother’s Day because it reminds me of each of my four children, the joy of each of them, their unique strengths and weaknesses, the things that make each of them who they are. I no longer get to have all of them here together. Some live farther away, some have their own women in their lives to celebrate, one is in Heaven. I love hearing from each of them and having the ones who live nearby stop over. It’s always a good day whenever you hear from your children.

I hate Mother’s Day because of all the other mom’s I know who have lost a child. I now know the pain they are having today and every single day. I hate it because of all the women out there who long to be a mother but can’t for whatever reason and perhaps can’t afford to adopt a child because the costs are ridiculously high.

I hate Mother’s Day because it reminds me of the child I have lost and of her little boy who no longer has his mother. I am very thankful because of the woman who has stepped in to represent that role in his life now and I’m so grateful and happy she is there. Sadly, the pain of my daughter’s loss is no easier, and once again, it is a love/hate relationship with this day.

I will never have that “perfect” Mother’s Day, if such a thing exists, and I will always have a love/hate relationship with it. I am so thankful that I was able to have four beautiful, intelligent, loving children who have been blessed with wonderful children of their own.

I decided to wait and post this blog after Mother’s Day, because if it is just a happy special day for you then I did not want to spoil your day in any way. I hope it always remains that way. If you are, like I am, dreading that day and perhaps grieving for a child, or children lost, then I waited to let the day pass for you. God bless you all.

I want to leave you with something positive to remember on Mother’s Day. Whatever your circumstances, however you do or don’t celebrate the day, whether you are a mother of human beings, pets, or just have a mother, give yourself a hug. Being a mom is a tough job.

Enjoy each and every moment you can with your children, whether human or furry babies, but know that it’s impossible to be a “perfect” mom and many days are going to be bad days and many are going to be good days and that is ok. It’s ok to end up the day with nothing in the house getting done. Were the children/pets fed? Is everyone healthy and tucked into bed safe and warm. Then you did ok. It’s fine to be happy with the smallest of victories.

Take each day on its own, some are better than others, accept the failures along with the wins. Know that kids are kids. Each one is an individual. If your child isn’t reading yet or can’t play the violin or solve math problems at age five, it’s ok. This age of social media has put so much undo pressure on moms to raise children in a perfect way to be just like everyone else. What a boring world that would be! I can tell you that each of my four had their own very distinct personalities, and they still do. Thank you!

God blessed me with two easy children to start off with. He knew what was coming and I guess He wanted to give me a few years of parenting experience before I tackled the next two. My first son and daughter were laid back kids, easy going spirits who played well together and were like dream children. Then I had another son and daughter. Welcome reality.

These two were a challenge right from the beginning. They have often challenged me throughout my life, God bless them! I wouldn’t want it any other way. As I said earlier, how boring life would be if all children acted the same. I have gone through ups and downs with each of my four children, and we have traveled some rough roads together. We are family, and we always pull through when we stick together as one.

I love each one of them for who they are as an individual and for who they are as siblings to each other. None of them are perfect, and I love them all unconditionally, just as they are. Each of them is raising their own children and I am happy to tell you that the “Mother’s Curse” (may God give you children that act just like you!) really works. Thank you Lord.

I’m glad this holiday has passed but I am also very thankful for it. I’m thankful I’m the mother of these four.

God bless all the Mom’s out there.

Until next time…Toni

Brittney & Torri

Josh & Jason

Josh, Torri, Jason & Brittney (dogs are Shar-pei’s Jack & Jazz)

Sometimes I feel like my brain is stuck in about second grade, in that I feel completely inferior brain wise to everyone else sitting around me in certain situations. This doesn’t happen a lot, I mean I do watch Jeopardy every day, but when it does, its alw

ays reassuring to notice that there are quite probably others in the room on equal footing with me.

This happened to me recently when I attended the local weather spotters advanced training. My love of the weather and especially storms started at an early age. I have always been fascinated with thunderstorms, lightening and tornadoes. Why does one storm produce them and not another?

I have been taking photos of clouds and storms my entire life. I used to take my children outside when there was a thunderstorm to the north of us and show them the clouds and features of the storm. My youngest daughter is still terrified of storms in spite of me trying to help her love them.

My oldest son was also fascinated by storms and became a weather spotter after high school and got me into that as well. He has that math/science brain that goes well with all the knowledge of weather. I look at it from more of an artistic mind.

Today, my storm spotting days still continue and while I don’t go out anymore and sit in my car near thunderstorms that could develop into tornadoes, I do still keep a watchful eye out here at my home and have a pretty great view of the countryside around me. I like to think I can help keep my little town and the cities to the east of me more weather informed.

Each year the National Weather Service in Des Moines, puts on a beginner and an advanced weather spotter training sessions that are held around the state. I’ve been a registered storm spotter for many years and have attended many beginner storm spotter trainings to always keep up to date. This year I decided to attend the local advanced spotter training, thinking I could gain more knowledge. This is where the brain inferiority comes into play.

The class was held at Latham Hall on the UNI campus. The only parking nearby is metered for thirty minutes only. I didn’t realize this until I had put about three too many quarters in the meter and realized I was not getting any extra time. To be fair the part that tells you it is for a maximum of thirty minutes is written very tiny and across the inside of the meter and very hard to read. You are welcome for the seventy-five cent donation UNI.

I walked into the building and waited with the others out in the hallway, most were from small area towns fire departments. I could tell because their jackets said so. They are usually the ones who go out in the storms and keep an eye out for the rest of us. Even with all of today’s weather tools and technology, there is still nothing better than eyes on the weather locally. All the people in the room with me were all volunteers, it made me proud to know all of these people cared about their local communities.

We sat in a small classroom with theater style seating. The seats were uncomfortable and about halfway through I think my buns fell asleep. There was a little tray thing on the side of the seats that the people next to me had put up to set their notebooks on but I had no idea how they worked and didn’t want to cause a spectacle in front of everyone there. I used my lap to take notes, often poking holes in my paper.

The room was very quiet as we all waited for the hour and a half presentation. They announced we were free to come and go during the presentation as they were not going to stop for a break during it. Thank goodness I had stopped by the lady’s room before I entered the classroom. I’m always very self-conscious about leaving a room during any type of presentation and will risk bladder explosion not to have to do so.

I always feel a little strange sitting in a college classroom, because I never did so as a young person. I know my kids would find this kind of room familiar for lectures, and they would have known how that little tray thing popped right up, but I felt odd sitting there. I looked around the room and most of the people attending were men, most had on work clothes, but there were also a few women scattered throughout and one couple that looked about ten years older than me, so I didn’t feel like I was the oldest one there.

The training began with an overview of the basics and I felt at home with these things. How to report hail, never describe it as marble size. Various types of watches and warnings. Where to look in storms for possible tornadoes, typical time of day severe weather breaks out.

Then he started to ramp up the information, talking about cyclonic this and that and all kinds of big weather terms that my brain was suddenly scrambling to try to understand and comprehend. People around me were intently listening so I assumed they were understanding all of this. I nodded my head occasionally hoping I too would look like I was getting all of this. I did notice the lady sitting in front of me kept reaching into her purse and was eating candy, so I’m guessing she was on equal footing with me. I felt a bit more encouraged.

He went through many slides showing various types of storms and supercells and what they call each type of supercell and whether it’s left or right cyclonic or splits and on and on. These terms by the way may or may not be accurate as I am telling the information as my brain took it in.

We watched a few videos where people had stayed put and continued taping the tornado even though after a while it was obvious it was going to hit them. I wanted to yell “RUN” but knew it wasn’t appropriate and the entire time I wondered why? As much as I love a good storm and all the fascinating parts of it, I would not just stand there while a tornado was bearing down on me. I do understand the strange allure of a tornado but safety first, always.

At the end of the class the candy eating lady in front of me piped up and announced she had photos on her phone of a shelf cloud and I could feel everyone in the room roll their eyes. I’m pretty sure they all did too. There is always at least one like her at every training session. I also felt like my intelligence level in the room just advanced a few steps above hers.

Out in the parking lot I was relieved to see there was no ticket on my car window and my car was locked, as I couldn’t remember if I’d locked it or not and was worried about that the entire time I was in the meeting. When I got home I uploaded the latest weather reporting app for spotters and set my notes and handout aside.

I realized that even though most of the lecture and terms were way over my head, I did come away with some very useful knowledge. I know where NOT to be watching from when a severe storm is approaching. I know you do NOT stand and continue filming when a tornado is coming at you. I know you DON’T try to drive your car through a huge supercell storm hoping there is not a tornado hiding inside that curtain of rain. I know that a lot of tornados are wrapped inside heavy rain and very hard to see. I know that 19 is the state record for number of tornadoes spawned from one supercell.

While I may not understand all the science terminology and all the radar charts, I think I can be helpful in keeping an eye out for my local communities. Next time the sky goes dark in the west, just know that I am probably standing outside keeping an eye out for shelf clouds, rotation, hail. I’m also taking lots of photos, but I promise you, if I see a tornado, I’m heading to the basement.

Until next time….Toni

There are only a couple of foods that I bake well. Sugar cookies and pizza are two of them, ok they are probably the only two I do well. Martha S. I am not. I’m not fussy enough for baking with all the annoying measuring involved and I am not a math genius.

I usually only bake sugar cookies for Christmas and then it’s a big production on my part. Last year I miscalculated the doubling of the ingredients (math problems) and ended up with twice the amount of butter required, which ended up in melted looking cookies. We tossed those and started over.

After that disaster I made myself a printed recipe showing both the regular recipe and the recipe doubled, so all I had to do was be able to read. Much better!

When I attempt to bake my kitchen and I both end up looking like we have been hit with a flour bomb dropped from five feet overhead and exploding all over everything. I don’t know how or why it always happens, but it does. Luckily it does not effect the taste of the end product.

My sugar cookies are one of the only things that my husband actually prefers over everyone else. There is no secret to it, it’s an old B. C. recipe and the frosting I use came out of her book as well. I’ve been using that recipe for over 40 years.

My pizza recipe is a basic recipe from long ago that I began adding to it and tweaking it until I had it just the way I wanted it. Since I’m not fussy at measuring, it often comes out a bit different each time, and once in a while it’s a flop, but I’m ok with that.

I used to never share my recipe with anyone, but as I’ve aged I’m a little more relaxed in sharing some of my tips. I thought at one time I was going to own a restaurant, or a food truck, and make my pizza’s for everyone. There is less likelihood at this age that I will be able to do that, so I’m relaxing a bit on my rules.

Pizza is one of the few foods that while it’s very labor intensive I love to make it. It used to be something I did with my children and their friends, and now that they are grown many of them still have fond memories of my pizza, which makes me smile. It’s a joy I now share with my grandkids. I hope someday they will recall the fond memories of making homemade pizza with their grandma. Mission accomplished in my baking world.

Until next time….Toni

I enjoy riding on a train for the most part. Amtrak is the only choice here in the states and it typically has been a safe ride.

I recently had tickets to go to Denver, CO, back to visit my little grandson Willie, who was our daughter Torri’s little guy.

Due to a couple of recent Amtrak rail crashes, I will admit I was a little nervous about this train ride, but as a minister once told me, you don’t put your faith in the pilot, or in this case the engineer, you put it in Jesus. So faith firmly in the right place I was ready for my trip.

I was going to Ottumwa station this time as I could avoid the rush hour traffic I always end up in by going to the Osceola station. It was about a 2 ½ hour drive almost straight south and all on two-lane highway.

On this drive, I was usually the only car on the highway and only passed two semi-trucks along the route, so it was a beautiful stress-free drive.

The Ottumwa station is like all of them, on the outskirts of the city and not in a particularly “scenic” area. The station had apparently been turned into a museum, so all of the previous places in the nice parking lot for Amtrak were now signed for museum goers only. I’m guessing the museum probably never needs more than two or three spaces, but they didn’t ask my opinion. I was not sure where to park, so luckily, this station is attended, as many are not, and I was able to call them and ask where the parking space was for Amtrak.

I was directed to the other side of a building that sat next to the Amtrak station/museum and behind it was a gravel area that also served as the parking lot. He actually told me to look for the broken-down RV that sat in the back of the lot. I parked my SUV and ate my chicken strips that I had picked up at a fast food place along the way. I was about an hour early, so no rush.

About twenty minutes before the train was set to arrive, I grabbed my suitcase, two bags and my purse and slugged through the snow over to the sidewalk that ran parallel with the tracks and went and sat inside the station.

The attendant was behind the window, so I went up and asked him if we needed to check in as they used to do that. He replied no, and said they’d announce the trains arrival.

I don’t know if he got busy talking to the two guys that were in the little office with him, but the train pulled up with no announcement, so the eight of us in the station made our way out to the train platform, followed by the attendant.

Getting onto the train was tricky at this station as the platform was a lot lower than the train, so a yellow metal step is placed down for you to step up on. The conductor had placed it a bit far from the train itself, so I was trying to balance my two bags and purse while getting up onto the step. I was trying to step across the considerable space to the train with bags in hand and a bad left arthritic knee, which is also my dominant leg. The conductor did at least heft my one suitcase into the train for me.

Let me pause and tell you what was in my bags. My grandson Willie used to come to our house a lot, especially after his mom, our daughter, passed away when he was just 4 ½. I had brought some of his toys here to our house for him, plus the two of us had collected some others at area garage sales. He now felt settled enough in his new home and new family in Colorado, so he asked me if I might bring along most of his toys. Of course I would.

My suitcase was half filled with castle blocks and knights, plastic army figures, and Minecraft figures we’d found. There was literally little room for my clothes, so I packed lightly and luckily leggings are now in style.

The other two bags held various small toys, Minions, Ugly Pets, a coloring book, and more small toys, a bag with my knitting projects and a pair of shoes. It all weighed a ton, but whose weighing anything at a train station.

The train car only had one other passenger on it and she got off at the next stop. For most of the night I had the entire car to myself. It was heaven. The car was on the cool side that night which was great for sleeping and I had brought along a small pillow this time to help make the seats a more comfortable place to lay across. It helped somewhat, but I still haven’t found the perfect solution. I really need to figure out how to pack a full body pillow.

Getting off the train in Denver station is an easy task as the height of the platform matches the height of the train, so you simply step off. I walked what seems like a half mile to Union Station and went to a place I’d seen online called Snooze for breakfast. It would be a couple hours before my former son-in-law could pick me up, so this seemed like a great idea.

Usually I just grab a cup of overpriced but delicious coffee at a little shop inside the station called Pigtrain, but thought I’d go for the whole breakfast bit this journey.

I chose the regular breakfast which included a couple of eggs (sunny side up please) bacon, hash browns and toast. I got a vanilla latte to go with that and asked if I might substitute my hash browns for one blueberry pancake. He said yes, but there would be a small up-charge. Small up-charge ended up being four dollars.

When my breakfast came it was HUGE! It looked great and the single pancake took up an entire small platter all on its own. As I began to tuck into my food, I soon noticed many flaws. The egg was very under-cooked and had runny whites that I slid off to one side. The bacon was on the tough side, like it had just been reheated. The pancake, while delicious was ice cold and the round of butter on top didn’t even melt. The coffee was ok, but for the price of it, was in a very tiny cup. The total plus tip was almost $25.00. Last time I will do that.

I ate what I could and asked for a box for most of the pancake and the bacon. I knew someone would finish it. I went and sat on a big comfy couch in the hotel/station lobby waiting for my ride. There was no sign of the usual crabby hotel attendant who goes around the room constantly giving people disgusting looks and making you sit up, move your bags/feet/purse. I could relax for a while.

One thing you see a lot of at a train station is all walks of life gathered together in one small area. There were people who looked homeless walking next to business looking people in suits and business attire. You can always spot the Amtrak travelers as we are the ones hauling our luggage everywhere behind us, including into the restrooms as there is no where to store your things while you wait for the train.

I was picked up and taken to visit my grandson and his new family in Castle Rock, just a bit south of Denver. We had a great time together over the next few days, and then Sunday morning I had a big decision to make due to the impending weather in Iowa. Funny how weather a couple states away can impact your travel plans.

I was supposed to get back on the train to go home on Monday evening, but Iowa was expecting freezing rain Monday night and Tuesday morning. My original ticket would have me arrive in Ottumwa on Tuesday morning, just in time to be on ice covered roads. I can drive through a lot of bad weather, snow storms, thunder storms, fog, tornado weather, sleet/hail but not ice.

A Sidebar:

One winter when driving home from Torri’s in Wisconsin, the weather suddenly changed to freezing drizzle/freezing rain just on the west side of Dubuque where it is very hilly and deep ditches.

I felt a bump on the rear of my car and still wonder if the car who passed me had touched my rear bumper, because my car suddenly went into a 360° spin. I was able to keep from hitting any other cars and managed to turn it to head straight into the ditch I was fast approaching and suddenly was airborne!

My car landed on all four tires and broke the axels and slid just short of crashing into a stand of trees. My airbag did not deploy, but I had a very sore shoulder the next day from my seatbelt holding me safely in place.

A nice lady (who told me she was a nurse on the way home) stopped on the shoulder of the road above and came all the way down into the ditch to see if I was ok and to let me know she had called it in. I waited in my car for the sheriff to arrive after reassuring her I was fine.

The sheriff helped me jump down out of my car and climb up the steep hill and opened the back door of his vehicle. It was the first and I hope the last time I ever sit in the back of a squad car.

He asked where my cell phone was and I told him it had been in my purse. He went down to my vehicle and after a while came back with my purse, which had spilled onto the floor with my phone laying on the mat. He asked me to unlock my phone which I did willingly as I knew he was checking to see if I had been on my cell phone, and I had not.

After checking it and being satisfied that I was not texting and driving he handed it back to me. He went outside to direct the tow truck and an ambulance showed up and had me get inside so they could make sure I was indeed alright. They both told me I was probably lucky my airbag did not deploy. That does not give me a sense of comfort.

The sheriff and tow truck driver both commended my driving skills in pointing my car straight for the ditch, thereby avoiding what would surely have been a roll over down the hill. I told them some show I had seen long ago talked about that very thing and for whatever reason, it came to me in those split seconds. After being checked by the paramedics, I was back in the sheriff’s car and he drove me back into town to a nearby hotel to stay the night. I called my family to say I was fine, but the car not so much. Jay made plans to come pick me up in the morning.

The roads were now deemed impassible, and all snow plows had been pulled off the road. Ever since then, I am not a fan of icy roads.

Back to the train ride:

I made the very hard decision to call Amtrak and change my ticket to Sunday night, instead of Monday night. I was not happy with Amtrak as I had just checked an hour earlier to make sure there were still tickets available on that day and it showed there were and they were at the same price I had payed for my original ticket.

When I called the agent, she told me the tickets were now $96 higher. I told her I had just checked online, and she would not budge on the price. I was not happy at all.

I thought about it and figured if I kept my original ticket and ended up in Ottumwa with icy roads and travel not recommended I’d be paying for a hotel room for the night anyway, so I opted to pay the additional money and changed my ticket. The hardest thing was having to explain to a seven-year-old why his grandma was leaving a day early. I told him grandma wanted to arrive home safely, so I could come and visit him again, and told him I owed him an extra day the next visit.

We spent the day all together in Colorado Springs walking and climbing, well they climbed, I walked, through the Garden of the Gods park which is absolutely beautiful and free and dog friendly. It was a gorgeous day out and we only needed t-shirts. I highly recommend it to everyone.

I packed my things up when we got back to their house and was taken to the train station after lots of hugs and teary good-byes. It’s always hard for me to leave any of the grand-kids, I wish they all lived nearby and I never get to see them enough.

My wait at the station was short as they started boarding the train about a half an hour before it was set to leave. I was pleasantly surprised to be offered a ride on the tram car that usually only takes handicapped and very elderly people to the train, but there was only one other person who was riding, so I guess I looked elderly enough to warrant a ride. It was wonderful not having to pull my suitcase for that half a mile trek especially after having walked all over hills and mountains all day. My short little legs and bad knee are not geared for hilly or long travel.

I was taken right up to the car I would be on and got onboard and into the lower level car I was ticketed for. I saw there was only one other lady on board and my heart was once again full of glee! How had this good luck happened twice?

I started to go back and sit in the other very last seat across from her as those seats are my favorites, no one walking past your seat all night long. She said to me, “wouldn’t you rather sit up front?” I will admit I was a little taken aback, but she seemed kind of fidgety and I thought maybe she wanted to sit alone in the back. I started to put my things on the next seat up and more people started coming into our car. Then suddenly she asked me if I’d like to sit back there, where I was originally going to sit. She apologized for her earlier comment. I think I must have looked like an okay choice to sit across from after all.

I moved into that back seat as others began to file in. So far it was all women. A few sat together and a few had double seats like myself. In total there were two rows of double seats or room for twelve people. Our lady car attendant came in and announced we’d all have to partner up as a family of five were coming onto our car and would like to sit together.

After she left our car, a general rumbling went up and musings about how young the kids would be and how noisy. It is hard enough to catch a couple of hours of sleep anywhere in coach on a train, but crying and noisy kids don’t make it any easier.

The lady across from me and I decided we would double up when the time came, but for now we both stayed where we were. Close to departure time, one younger man came into our car and we now only had four seats available. Our attendant came back in and we inquired about the family, which she told us they had gone on the other lower level car. I think there was a collective sigh of relief.

During the entire trip, both the lady across from me and I had a double seat to ourselves. The elderly lady in front of her offered up a prayer of safe travel for all of us before the train left the station and we all chimed in with Amen. That was another first on a train.

The young man’s family was outside the train waving good-bye as we started to leave. so all of us ladies leaned over and waved good-bye to them as well. It turned out to be a fun group of with everyone chatting about this and that and sharing laughs along the way. Best group of strangers I’ve traveled with so far.

Soon the train lights were dimmed with the announcement of quiet time, so we all plugged in our headphones, and watched or listened to our various electronic devices and settled in for the night.

About midnight I woke up sweating as our car felt like it was 90° and I noticed others were awake and looked hot as well. I went out of our car and stood on the platform between the cars where it was cooler. We soon came to a small town stop and when the conductor came down to let out the few passengers I asked if he could turn down the heat for us.

When I went back in the car everyone said thank you except the lady who was across from me. She was sound asleep and under two heavy blankets! I had learned earlier she was a nurse and was vegan. Apparently, she also had no body fat which the rest of us in the car had plenty of and the heat was stifling.

I got into Ottumwa station at 9:00 a.m. right on time. It was foggy out as I made my way from the train to my car with much lighter luggage and only one other bag and my purse. I found a local Starbucks in a Hy-Vee store not too far away and got a breakfast sandwich and white chocolate mocha latte to go. Just as good of a breakfast at less than half the price of the one in Denver.

The drive home was long, foggy and either drizzling or full out raining all the way to Waterloo. It was so great to get back safely. I stopped at a grocery store in Waterloo to grab a couple of things before finally getting home.

My dog Kutter was there to greet me and he was so happy mom was back home. My husband Jay said Kutter had gone and laid on my bed every night while I was gone. What a sweet pup.

I let everyone know I made it home okay. That night we did have freezing rain and it continued into the morning causing bad roads and most of the schools to cancel. I was sad I had to end my visit a day early, but so thankful God helped me make the right decision and got me home safe and sound.

Until next time….Toni